"Harry, how wildly you talk!" she exclaimed. "I hardly know you. You frighten me with your mysterious talk.... Have--a--a little consideration for me." Nash strode back to lean into the car. Behind his huge goggles his eyes gleamed. His gloved hand closed hard on her arm. "It is sudden. It's got to be sudden," he said, in fierce undertone. "You must trust me." "I will. But you must confide in me," she replied, earnestly. "I'm not quite a fool. You're rushing me--too--too--" Suddenly he released her, threw up his hand, then quickly stepped back to the front of the car. Jake stood in the door of the hotel. He had seen that action of Nash's. Then Anderson appeared, followed by a boy carrying a glass of water for Lenore. They approached the car, Jake sauntering last, with his curious gaze on Nash. "Go in an' get a bite an' a drink," said Anderson to the driver. "An' hurry." Nash obeyed. Jake's eyes never left him until he entered the door. Then Jake stepped in beside Lenore. "Thet water's wet, anyhow," he drawled. "We'll get a good cold drink at Dorn's," said Anderson. "Lass, how are you makin' it?" "Fine," she replied, smiling. "So I seen," significantly added Jake, with a piercing glance at her. Lenore realized then that she would have to confide in Jake or run the risk of having violence done to Nash. So she nodded wisely at the cowboy and winked mischievously, and, taking advantage of Anderson's entering the car, she whispered in Jake's ear: "I'm finding out things. Tell you--later." The cowboy looked anything but convinced; and he glanced with narrowed eyes at Nash as that worthy hurried back to the car. With a lurch and a leap the car left Palmer behind in a cloud of dust. The air was furnace-hot, oppressive, and exceedingly dry. Lenore's lips smarted so that she continually moistened them. On all sides stretched dreary parched wheat-fields. Anderson shook his head sadly. Jake said: "Ain't thet too bad? Not half growed, an' sure too late now." Near at hand Lenore saw the short immature dirty-whitish wheat, and she realized that it was ruined. "It's been gettin' worse, Jake," remarked Anderson. "Most of this won't be cut at all. An' what is cut won't yield seedlings. I see a yellow patch here an' there on the north slopes, but on the most part the Bend's a failure." "Father, you remember Dorn's section, that promised so well?" asked Lenore. "Yes. But it promised only in case of rain. I look for the worst," replied Anderson, regretfully. "It looks like storm-clouds over there," said Lenore, pointing far ahead. Through the drifting veils of heat, far across the bare, dreamy hills of fallow and the blasted fields of wheat, stood up some huge white columnar clouds, a vivid contrast to the coppery sky. "By George! there's a thunderhead!" exclaimed Anderson. "Jake, what do you make of that?" "Looks good to me," replied Jake, who was always hopeful.